Sorry Not Sorry
by Laura of Maychoria
Summary: When a Robeast attacks a city the Paladins are visiting, Lance is injured by falling debris. They need to fight, so he tells the others he's fine. That turns out to be a mistake.


**A/N:** This was originally written for the Aphelion zine. Thank you to everyone who purchased a copy, and thanks also to the multiple betas who improved this story, especially helping me with my action scenes. It was a great experience working with you all.

This story was inspired by an anonymous prompt given during my 2k follower special, asking for Lance and Shiro with Lance lying about being sick or injured. I was so taken with the idea that I expanded it into this sizable fic, though if you read the original ficlet you might recognize a few paragraphs near the beginning. Thank you, anonymous prompter, whoever you are.

I am still working on On the Mend and Burning Up, Burning Out, though I will beg your indulgence as life is currently stressful for me. I think I need to stop bouncing back and forth between those two stories and just pick one to finish, then work on the other one. I currently have a chapter for On the Mend almost ready to post, and I think I know how to finish the story. Maybe another five chapters or so.

I have many, many more plans for other stories in 2018, too. Like, you have no idea. This series is still inspiring me a great deal, almost every single day. Though my fic production has slowed down since the beginning, there's still plenty to come. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Pidge, look out!"

Lance didn't think about it. There wasn't time. He leaped, shoving Pidge's back hard with both hands. She jolted forward, teeth crashing together with a snap, a breathless grunt knocked out of her as she stumbled with her limbs flailing. It didn't matter, though, because the broken corner of a building falling from the sky had missed her entirely.

It caught Lance in a glancing blow, numbing his shoulder and smashing his elbow into his side. He gasped and stumbled, stunned by the impact, but didn't fall. For the moment, it didn't even hurt.

"Lance!" Hunk stared at him with horror, Shiro and Keith both turning with wide eyes. Keith had jumped forward to catch Pidge before she hit the ground, but Shiro was too far away. He was looking at Lance with terrified disapproval.

"Are you okay?" Hunk asked shrilly, mouth wide open in fear.

Lance nodded. He hadn't even hit the ground. He looked up at the building, to the broken corner where a laser blast had gouged out a chunk of rubble and dropped it down where they had been standing moments before. A brief shudder of disbelief passed over him as he absorbed how narrowly he and Pidge had missed being crushed to a pulp.

All around them, city sirens began to blare, rising high and frantic and shattering the peaceful afternoon. Lance's gaze snapped down the street, in the direction the blast had come from. A Robeast. Where did it come from? How did it find them?

Keith helped Pidge to her feet, still supporting her as she caught her breath. His foot was forward, already primed to run to the spaceport where they'd parked the lions, but he looked to Shiro for guidance. So did Hunk and Pidge. Shiro, though, was looking at Lance.

"Lance." His voice was firm. "Are you okay? Do not lie to me."

Lance chuckled ruefully and stretched out his shoulder. It still felt numb, but he was aware of a deep aching burn underneath, something lying in wait. In a moment, his nerves were going to wake up, and it was going to hurt. Bad. "Yeah, I'm fine. It just brushed me. There's no time, Shiro. We gotta run. We have to form Voltron."

This was undoubtedly true, so Shiro could only nod. They ran.

They had to defend this city full of innocents, this planet, their new allies. The planet reminded Lance a lot of Earth. Not a lot of water, but fields upon fields of waving grain: golden, green, and pink. The society was still mainly agrarian, though, like many cultures Lance had encountered on his journey through the universe, they had some surprising technological advancements. They had enough space flight to far surpass Earth's progress, while the cities and land vehicles reminded Lance of scenes from America in the the early 1900s.

The Paladins had been wearing their armor for this tour around the city, though their helmets were back with their lions. Lance missed them now, wishing they could in touch with Allura and Coran and confirm what was happening. But he could guess. If the Galra had brought a fleet to invade, they were only holding off from bombarding the city because they'd already sent down a champion. The Robeast.

Speaking of... Lance stared down the street, trying to get a glimpse of the monster in the fields beyond. He couldn't see much, just flashes of blue-gray carapace and winking laser ports. The Robeast continued to shoot into the city, raining down more chunks of buildings into the streets as the population screamed and ran for shelter. Lance gritted his teeth and tried not to think about how many people were in danger. How many people were already dead.

His shoulder ached and burned, now. Each running step jolted the injury, shooting pain across his upper back and deep into the muscles. He tried to hold his arm as still as possible, which made his gait lopsided and felt like it was worsening the injury. Lance could feel his suit struggling to hold him together: the Altean armor was designed to prevent blood loss and stabilize limbs in the case of a break or a strain. It helped, but it didn't dull the stabbing, burning pain that now consumed his shoulder.

He didn't realize he was lagging until movement on his periphery caught his attention, and oh, there was Shiro, running alongside him and giving him that worried, disapproving stare. He could see the way Lance was holding his arm. Lance couldn't meet his eyes, choosing instead to stare ahead as his face burned. They were both lagging behind the others now. Shiro had deliberately slowed his pace to match his.

"Lance!" Shiro hissed. "I thought you got hit harder than you let on. Why did you lie?"

Lance grimaced, felt the guilt burning like acid in his throat. At the same time, he couldn't take it back. He'd made the right call. "We have to get to the lions right away," he said, voice low. "We don't have time."

Shiro halted in the street and grabbed Lance's good arm to stop him. Lance gasped in pain and stiffened up at the jolt to his body. Shiro leaned in closer, eyes darting back and forth as he looked for blood. Nothing was visible through the armor, Lance knew, and even Shiro in full protective commander mode wouldn't force him to strip in the middle of a crisis.

Lance refused to look at him, but didn't try to slip out of Shiro's grasp. "Dude, I'm fine. Really. I can handle it."

Shiro clenched his teeth. Lance understood that he was putting him in a bad position here. Shiro did not want to ask him to fight wounded, not if he could do anything to prevent it. It went against all of his instincts.

Lance steeled himself, then looked into Shiro's eyes. "Yes, I lied. I got hit. But I'm walking. I'm not concussed. We have to go and fight. Please, trust me. I'll get treated when this is over."

Shiro's fingers tightened around Lance's arm as he sucked in a breath and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, grimacing. Lance could see the disgust and frustration on his face, not at Lance but at the situation. He wanted to send Lance back to the Castle _right now_ so Coran could check his condition.

But another blast hit a nearby building, and Hunk shouted in fear somewhere up ahead. They couldn't wait. They had to get to the lions now, and they had to fight.

"Okay." Shiro let go of Lance's arm and looked into his face, mouth grim and eyes intent. "I trust you. But you'd better believe I'm gonna make sure you get taken care of as soon as possible."

Lance grinned. "Of course."

They ran. Lance pushed the pain down deep into a bunker in his mind. He could keep it under wraps. Just until this fight was finished.

They reached the spaceport where the lions were crouched, waiting for them with mouths opened and ramps lowered. Lance blinked when he realized that Blue had moved. She was practically in the street now, shoulders almost touching the two buildings on either side as she waited for him. She must have sensed that he was injured and trotted across the tarmac to meet him. He wondered how the natives had reacted, if they had all just run out of the way when the giant alien space cat started moving. It must have been almost as terrifying and inexplicable as the enormous Robeast attacking their city.

Lance smirked and ran up the ramp. He held his injured arm with his opposite hand to cushion himself from the impact as his feet struck the metal slope. He threw himself into the cockpit and slammed into his chair, the controls already rising to meet him. Blue had modified those, presenting something like a central joystick that he could hold with one hand instead of the two sideway bars that usually met him.

"Thanks, beautiful," Lance murmured, reaching to grab the joystick as Blue shifted around him and rose to her feet. Displays flickered to life and information began to flow across the screens, showing distance to target, probable weak points, obstacles in the way. He tucked his injured arm into his lap as the magnetic restraints locked his suit into his seat. A glance at the largest screen revealed the other lions rising as well. Then they were all flying to meet the battle.

First priority was to get the Robeast away from the city. All five lions roared through the city to reach the open field where the monster was rampaging. Most of them rose above the buildings for a straight shot, but Keith wove through the buildings themselves, the show-off. Ordinarily, Lance would be down there with him, but he was smart enough to know he shouldn't try his hand at any fancy flying today.

The joystick was perfectly responsive in his hand, and Blue seemed to follow his thoughts as much as his movements like always. Flying wasn't a _problem,_ per se; Lance could fly just fine, thank you. But along with the physical weakness and his useless arm, he felt a malaise creeping over his thoughts and slowing his reaction time. The pain was taking up too much of his attention, distracting him from the fight.

No. No, he just had to push it deeper, that was all. Lance shook his head, trying to shake it off, and sat up straighter in his seat. He clenched his teeth and watched the sky as he flew, determined to keep it together. Just one fight. He had to make it through one fight, and then he could let go.

"Let's do this!" he yelled through the comms as the five lions broke out into the open field and charged at the Robeast. The fight was on.

It resembled a massive beetle, trundling slowly over the landscape and crushing everything below its tread-like feet. The turret that made up its upper section continually swiveled in all directions, firing the huge laser cannons that studded it at intervals. There had to be at least half a dozen, maybe more, all of them able to fire independently. Before Team Voltron had arrived, the cannons had been shooting indiscriminately, some hitting the city buildings, some shooting off into nowhere. It was as if the Robeast didn't have a purpose or a focused mission, but had been sent just to sow mayhem.

As the lions flew in, all of the laser cannons swiveled to face them, at least one cannon trained on each found himself staring down a black barrel, neon green building deep within. The terror of looking down a gun about to fire caught him in the throat and paralyzed him for a crucial moment.

"Lance, break right!" Shiro screamed, and he did. The green laser bolt sliced the air where Lance and Blue had just been. If Blue had had whiskers, it would have singed them. The other Paladins had also dodged, some left, some right, and none of them had gotten hit. For now, at least.

Lance's fingers shook around the joystick, and his injured arm tensed up, shooting a blast of pain up his shoulder and across his back. Lance choked, then stopped breathing, trying to keep it back. "Thanks, Shiro," he forced out after a moment.

"Disable the cannons," Shiro ordered. "Contain the damage to us and this field. Protect the city."

Good thing this Robeast was slow. It was pretty much stuck where it had landed as Lance and the others dipped and twirled around it, trying to get a clean shot on the cannons. Its armor was incredibly thick, which must be why it wasn't speedy. The turret and the individual cannons moved plenty quick enough, tracking each of them with seeming ease.

Everything started to blur together in Lance's mind. Spin, dodge, tuck, and break. Take a shot on a cannon when he could. Draw attention away from the city. Keep track of the other lions to avoid midair collisions. There was a lot going on, and he was having trouble seeing it all. Usually, Lance would hold off at a distance where he could shoot from long range and keep an eye on the entire battlefield. From there, he would be able to give his fellow Paladins instructions on the fly, when to shoot, when to dodge, when to cover someone in trouble. For this fight, though, he could barely take care of himself, let alone anyone else.

They got through it, somehow. Lance didn't run into anyone. He was pretty sure he took out a laser cannon on his own, maybe two or three. But he became aware that he was panting into his mic like a dog, and had been for a while. It was far from his normal battle persona. Usually he would be whooping and shouting, chattering and cheering. The adrenaline of the fight would heighten his gregarious, outgoing personality to the point that Shiro would tell him to tone it down and Keith would get annoyed, though Hunk and Pidge usually just laughed at him for being a goofball.

Not today.

Lance was vaguely aware of voices in his ears, his teammates talking, calling out instructions to help each other through the battle, but he couldn't quite make out the words. He wasn't contributing anything to the discussion himself. It was all he could do to handle his own corner of the fight, as small and pathetic as that felt.

Eventually, it hit his consciousness that his teammates' voices were worried. And they were saying his name a lot. "...Lance, Lance. Are you okay? Lance. Lance!"

Four voices, four variations of the same thing.

"Lance! Sit rep! Now!"

"Oh man, are you hurt, dude?"

"Lance! Hold it together!"

"Quiznak, Lance, you lied, didn't you? You had _better_ be okay when this is over or I swear to Allura, I'll kick your butt across the entire universe until we reach the border of reality and then I'll _keep kicking_."

Lance chuckled, but the vibrations shook his chest and ran upward through his shoulder hard enough to make him choke down a groan immediately afterward. "Sorry, Pidge. I'm fine. Swearsies. It's just a...just a bruise."

Brief silence on the comms, then a burst of outrage.

"Like quiznak it is!"

"Quit lying to us, for real!"

"Lance, you idiot..."

A burst of laser fire from Black sped by outside, and Shiro's voice came, strained but decisive. "Okay, that's the last cannon. I think we have this situation under control. Lance, head back to the Castle..."

A flare of light from the Robeast blanked out the screens and briefly blinded them. Lance squeezed his eyes shut, then blinked them open, squinting to see. The Robeast was mid-transformation, turning from a giant beetle-like thing covered with smoking laser mounts on the top to something much taller and more articulated. The tread-like feet folded upward and expanded into six crab-like legs, spindly but agile. Openings appeared in the upper body, revealing four more limbs, long and multi-jointed. Each of them held something long and shiny. Swords, similar to what Voltron used when Keith plugged in the red bayard, but these were fencing foils made of laser energy, sparking bright enough to make Lance wince.

The beetle had turned into crab, scuttling toward the city. Before they could react, it cut a building in half with two swings from two pairs of swords. The building collapsed in pieces, fortunately empty with the inhabitants evacuated, but the sight still made Lance sick to his stomach. The Robeast wasn't paying attention to the lions anymore. It was intent on dismantling the vulnerable city. At this rate, it wouldn't take long.

"Holy crow, look at that thing go!" Pidge burst out, high and agitated.

"Hunk, try to slow it down," Shiro ordered, and the yellow lion flew to intercept. The other lions hovered in the air, taking in the situation.

For a few seconds, silence reigned. Lance heard himself panting into the comms again. He could feel the tension and distress in the air.

"I think we have to form Voltron," Keith said, grim and unhappy.

"I know," Shiro said. "Lance, do you think you can hold up? Just for a little longer? I hate to ask this, but I don't think we can take this thing down as individual lions."

Lance hesitated, heart pounding so hard it hurt. He could feel it in his bruises, not to mention his injured arm. If he ignored it, maybe it would go away. "I can hold on," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "But I don't know if forming Voltron is a good idea. The rest of you... I'm afraid you'll feel it through the bond."

"Your pain, you mean?" Pidge accused, anger directed at Lance again, after her astonished reaction to the Robeast transformation. "Must be a little worse than a bruise if you think it's going to bother us through the Voltron bond."

Lance gritted his teeth, but she was right. "It's maybe a couple of bruises and some little scrapes. Come on, let's all go after that thing. It might work."

Shiro grunted in torment, but his voice was certain. "No, the beast is too well-coordinated on its limbs now. If we take out individual arms and legs, it will keep going. We have to push back with something equally powerful, and that's Voltron. We'll just have to take the pain, Lance. We'll all work to finish this fight as quickly as possible."

Lance closed his eyes in resignation, then opened them again. "Okay. But... Um. I should warn you. It's maybe a little worse than I've been letting on."

"No kidding!" Pidge's voice was scathing.

"Pidge, enough," Shiro said. "Hunk, come back. It's time. Form Voltron!"

They obeyed. In that intense moment of connection, of wills and strengths joining and combining into one, time seemed to slow. Lance was aware of a harshness, a buzz, connection points grating against each other instead of gliding smoothly into place. He didn't know if it was because of his physical pain flooding the bond, Pidge's anger, Shiro's misery, Hunk's fear, or Keith's helplessness. Maybe it was all of them together. Usually when they joined as one, they were able to mitigate each other's troubles, to dilute them and conquer them, subsume them under the need to fight and to win. Today, the emotional distresses only seemed to multiply, bouncing off each other and rebounding like echoes that refused to die.

Voltron stood in front of the Robeast, straightening up slowly like an old man with aching joints.

Lance knew it was his fault. He tried to hold it back, but the Voltron bond took everything. All was fed into it, his pain, his humiliation, his guilt. He shouldn't have gotten hit. Shouldn't have lied about it. Shouldn't have had the arrogance to think that he was so important, so indispensable. Shouldn't have stayed where he wasn't wanted or needed.

A spark of something lit along the line, starting with Hunk and flaring out to the rest until all were consumed. Understanding, horror. Denial.

"No, Lance!" Fierce, angry, proud. Shiro or Keith, probably. In that moment, Lance couldn't tell the difference between their voices. Maybe it was both at once. The right arm of Voltron formed the sword in an instant, prompted by the head, as urgent determination to end this fight merged their wills into one.

"You _are_ indispensable." Pidge, still furious, bright like a laser flooding the connection and piercing into Lance's spine, electrifying him and making him sit up straighter. "That's why we can't afford to lose you to some stupid building falling on you, you idiot!" The left arm of Voltron brought forward the gigantic, skyscraper-sized shield and held it before the enemy.

"Holy crow, dude, we are having such a long talk when this is over," Hunk said, voice grim and hard the way it rarely was. The left leg of Voltron stepped forward, braced into the ground like a pillar of stone. It would not be moved. Voltron would not be moved.

And the right leg of Voltron supported them all, holding steady despite the enormous, welling agony of the pilot. The other four pilots took that pain into themselves, accepted it, shared it. Lance gasped and felt himself going limp as the ache and burn in his shoulder diminished. It was still there, but it was much lighter and more bearable. Eighty percent of the pain had been taken away, forcibly stolen by his teammates. They refused to let him bear the whole.

"I..." Lance's tongue felt swollen and heavy in his mouth. He blinked, and his hand on the joystick trembled, but Blue was steady and strong despite his weakness. "Thanks, guys."

"Just hold on a little longer," Shiro ordered.

Ahead of them, the Robeast advanced, rapiers held ready to attack. Pidge lifted the shield a fraction, but Shiro had no patience for a defensive strategy, not right now.

"Keith, time to strike!" They all felt Shiro's intent through the bond, and they all agreed, so words weren't necessary. But something about verbalization, the defiance of it, felt right in battle. It always had.

Keith swung the blazing sword. Two rapiers rose, crossed to block, but Pidge thrust forward too, knocking them apart with the shield. The other rapiers lifted, all four now pushing against Voltron. Lance and Hunk spread their stance, holding firm, and Keith swung the sword again, moving in a wide arc too powerful to be denied.

Voltron thrust the rapiers aside, leaving a momentary opening in the middle of their formation. Pidge turned the shield sideways and blocked the gap with the edge of it. The rapiers swung back, trying to dislodge her, and sparks flew from the edge of the shield and showered the buildings all around them. Pidge screamed her defiance, channeling the pain she was taking from Lance, as well as her own anger, impatience, and need to end this.

Voltron went to one knee and pivoted. Keith swung in with the sword, underhanded, into the gap that Pidge had forced into the rapier formation, and the swordpoint found a home in the middle of the crab beast's carapace. A mighty jolt coursed through the entirety of Voltron, throwing Lance against his restraints. He lost his breath for a moment, white sparks overtaking his vision as the pain in his shoulder spiked far, far higher.

His head was swimming, and he knew he was about to pass out. Then he heard the others screaming in agony, rage, and refusal. Lance blinked, his chin nodding toward his chest, and sucked in a gasp. His eyes opened again as the pain was pulled away, parting before his vision like a curtain, and he saw arcs of electricity blazing along the sword.

As Lance watched in disbelief, the electricity pierced through the carapace, cracking it open in spreading branches like forks of lightning. The Robeast jerked backward as a terrible shriek split the air, far louder and more horrifying than the klaxon alarms still sounding in the city. Lance flinched but could not close his eyes, compelled by the sight.

The Robeast's rapiers fell limp to its sides, and it scuttled backward away from the painful blow, still gurgling in agony. Disgusting blue fluid began to ooze from the cracks in its shell, first in a trickle and then in a gush. The thick, viscous liquid poured downward, flowing over the spindly, bending legs to puddle grotesquely in the pink and amber grain fields. Voltron held firm for a moment longer, then straightened, still presenting the sword and shield in case the Robeast had one last attack in it.

It did not.

The legs collapsed, dropping the mighty bulk onto the ground with a thud that shook the world. The part that might have been a head, with a cluster of small, beady black eyes, rolled back to regard the sky. Then the creature fell sideways and landed with a rending, shattering crash. The rapiers' light faded to nothingness, leaving the four slender spikes as nothing but twisted metal. The remaining lights and laser ports went dark, and the creature stilled.

Lance couldn't help the pity that twisted in his chest and raised a lump in his throat. These Robeasts, these robotic beasts... They were victims as much as any other creature used as a tool by the Empire. Lance couldn't help the feeling that he'd been forced to kill some poor, sick animal that was attacking out of terror and pain, not malice. But they couldn't help it. They had to defend the innocent, and such was the city at their back.

When about a minute passed and the Robeast didn't so much as twitch, the thrumming tension in the Voltron bond eased. A gasp stuttered from five different throats, and Voltron stood back, sword and shield no longer held in a guard position.

"All right," Shiro said, sounding dazed and breathless. "Good job, team, we beat it. Let's get Lance back to the Castle."

Voltron split apart, five lions flying away from the scene of battle, and all of the pain flooded back to Lance's own body. He couldn't help the strangled cry that ripped out of him when it hit him fully, though he tried to suppress it. He could feel his suit still constricting him, trying to hold it together, to hold _him_ together, but the battle had worsened his injury. His entire shoulder and arm, as well as that quadrant of his chest, felt both throbbing and numb at the same time. He had an insane, delirious wish to form his bayard into a sword so he could just cut his arm off at the joint; it hurt that badly.

He wouldn't do that, of course. Shiro would never forgive him. A stupid thought, but that was only thing that was holding Lance together in this moment. He couldn't disappoint Shiro, so he had to keep his arm, even though it might literally be killing him.

He pushed the joystick forward, his hand shaking so hard he could barely control himself, but Blue was already going as quickly as she could. He became distantly aware that his teammates were talking again, and they were worried. They were saying his name a lot, but he couldn't quite make it out. It was like a radio trying to catch a station that was just out of range, surrounded by static noise. He could hear a cadence, a rhythm that reminded him of voices and speech, but he couldn't hear the words.

It occurred to him that this was probably not a good thing. His vision narrowed. He could see the Castle before him, steadily drawing closer, and he saw something that might have been stars. But everything else was fading into gray, his peripheral vision slowly disappearing. Then his central vision blurred, and he slumped back in his chair.

"It hurts," he told whoever was listening, his voice wavering and pathetic, on the edge of a sob. The voices raised in pitch and urgency, and he imagined that they were telling him to hang on, because that was something that Shiro had said over and over to him. But he just... He couldn't.

His vision went finally, blessedly dark.

The next while came in flashes. He was sitting slumped in his pilot chair, too exhausted and shaken to move, vision blurred and distorted. He heard clattering feet on the metal deck, voices, saw faces in front of him. His vision got worse, clouded with tears. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," someone said, rough and unsteady. "We'll get you to the infirmary." Hands reached out for him. Someone jostled his shoulder, most likely by accident. Lance yelled, and things went dark again.

Movement. He was being carried through the halls. He saw a corner of the wall, the ceiling, heard someone's breath above him. Every footstep jolted his shoulder, sending lightning flashes of pain through him. He closed his eyes and tried to stop feeling, mind going blank and discordant. His ragged breathing gave him away. "You're gonna be okay." Hunk's voice. "I'm sorry," Lance answered.

He came back fully when Coran started peeling his suit away to get at the shoulder. It hurt like fire, like lightning, as the constriction eased and blood flooded into the torn and swollen flesh. Lance's eyes flew open and a strangled scream burst out of him. He tried mindlessly to get away. Weight bore down on his uninjured shoulder, holding him still, and he was too weak to fight it off. Coran was talking rapid-fire in a bright, cheerful voice.

"Remarkable boy, somehow you've both broken and dislocated your arm! That is quite a feat, I must say, but I hear you had some help in the form of a falling building. How you contrived to resist the pain long enough to form Voltron and fight off a Robeast is another thing entirely. You'll have to tell me later how you managed that. All right, now, done with the prep, let's get you into the cryo-replenisher. We'll have you fixed up in two shakes of a kaliburr's tail."

Lance might have apologized again, somewhere in the middle of that, but Coran's voice covered it up. He closed his eyes and let himself be lifted, even while his breath caught in his throat and his heartbeat quickened. It would be over soon. He had to hold on to that.

Fingers dug into his hair, and he opened his eyes blearily to see Shiro looking at him, grim and exhausted. "I'm sorry," Lance said again, soft, for Shiro only. Shiro shook his head and withdrew his hand, then the pod closed.

He dreamed that they'd failed.

The beetle-crab Robeast attacked the city, and they couldn't form Voltron. It was Lance's fault. They kept trying, and they kept falling apart. They couldn't fight. Thousands died.

He woke with a scream, falling out of the pod. He was caught against someone's chest, wiry arms wrapping around him, Coran's voice soothing above his head. "It's all right, it's all right. You can come out a bit early, my boy. Sorry no one else is here to see you, but your brain activity was worrying me, so I deactivated the healing sequence as soon as it was safe. You'll probably still feel some discomfort in your shoulder, but it's not dangerous. Can you hear me, Lance?"

Lance nodded into his chest, breathing rapid and ragged. His heart pounded, his eyes stung, his mouth was dry, and his shoulder throbbed. "Sorry," he whispered.

"No more of that, now." Coran straightened, pushing Lance upright. One arm wrapped firmly around Lance's shoulders, and Coran bent down and scooped him up with his other arm under Lance's knees. Lance gasped, head spinning, and wrapped his arms around Coran's neck to steady himself.

Coran carried him somewhere and laid him down on a surface. It was soft, pillows and blankets. A bed or a cot of some kind. Lance hadn't realized the infirmary had those. Usually the pod was enough. Of course Lance had to be uniquely troublesome, though. It was his lot in life.

He sank back into the softness, eyes falling half shut as he forced his breath to steady. His shoulder still hurt, but it wasn't bad. He could tell that it would heal on its own. Coran fussed with the blankets for a bit, tucking them around him, then crouched at Lance's head and petted his hair for a moment. "I'll fetch the others for you, shall I? I know they're all eager to see you."

Lance shook his head. "Please... Give me a moment." He needed to settle himself. Needed to figure out what to say. He was sick of apologizing, and he knew the others were tired of hearing it, too. He shouldn't do things that needed to be apologized for in the first place, that was the real problem. But it was too late for that.

"All right," Coran said gently. "We can wait a few ticks."

They weren't given a choice, though. There was a scuffle at the door, a noisy gasp, and Lance looked over to see Pidge's head poking through with eyes wide and face flushed. When she saw him looking, she gave him a sharp nod, then pulled her head back into the hall and scurried away. Lance braced himself. Sure enough, in a few minutes everyone was there, crowding around Lance's bed and looking down at him, some with relief and some with agitation.

Lance looked at them, meeting each pair of eyes. His jaw was firm. He would not let them see him tremble. "I'm not gonna apologize anymore," he said.

"Good," Shiro said. He had taken Coran's place, kneeling by Lance's head, and was resting one hand on his uninjured shoulder. It felt heavy, weighing Lance down, and he knew if he tried to get up Shiro would push him down again. "You apologized enough."

Lance shook his head. "I'm not sorry." Keith made a noise of disgust, and Lance met his eyes. "I'm not sorry I lied. I'm sorry the rest of you had to bear my pain while we were in Voltron. I'm really, really sorry for that. But I'm not sorry for the rest of it. I would do it again. I _will_ do it again, if I have to."

Pidge's hands clenched into fists at her sides, teeth pressed together in a snarl, and Lance looked at her. "I mean it. I would do it again. I'm not sorry."

Hunk's eyes filled with tears, and Lance looked away. He ended up facing Shiro, who was looking back at him, his face still grim and exhausted. It was even worse than earlier, as if he hadn't slept at all while Lance was in the pod.

"You understand, right?" Lance asked. "When we have to fight, we have to fight. We're the only ones in the universe who can do it. I'm the only pilot Blue has. When Blue has to be there, I have to be there. It doesn't matter if I'm tired, or sick, or don't feel like doing it, or even if I have a minor injury. I'm sorry I made you guys fight with a teammate who wasn't at a hundred percent, but we didn't have a choice."

Shiro hesitated, opened his mouth, closed it again. He shut his eyes, and utter misery swept over his face, just as Lance had heard in his voice when they were fighting. Then he opened his eyes again and nodded. "Yes, I understand. I understand your reasoning. It infuriates me and sickens me, but I understand why you did what you did."

The others made noises of protest, and Shiro glanced up, quelling them with a look. He looked back to Lance, and his hand tightened on his shoulder, not enough to hurt though. "Still, you can't lie about this. Not to us. Not to _me_. That was not a minor injury, and even if it had been, you still have to give me all the information you have so I can make an informed decision. Never again, Lance. Do you hear me? You _tell_ me when you're hurt, or sick, or tired, or just don't feel like doing this anymore, and _I_ will decide whether or not to require you to keep fighting."

Lance smirked at that. He couldn't help it. "Control freak."

The corner of Shiro's mouth curled up. "I never denied it. The universe decided that I have to be the leader. I have to take innocent kids far, far away from home, put them in a war they never asked for, and force them to fight wounded because there's literally no one else in the entire stretch of the cosmos who can do it. That role is on me, so I'm going to do it. Don't take this away from me."

Lance chuckled and closed his eyes. "Fine. Next time I stub a toe or wake up feeling blah, I'll tell you."

"Good. I'll hold you to that." Shiro's grip softened on his shoulder.

"One note on that little speech, though, Shiro. I want to be here. I do. You're not forcing me to do anything. Maybe I wouldn't have chosen this life if I'd been given the opportunity, but I'm here now, and it is what it is. You're not getting rid of me. I hope you're not thinking of trying."

Shiro sighed, but his shoulders relaxed, and a small, genuine smile appeared. For a moment, the exhaustion lifted from his face, and he looked as young as he really was. "Never. You're a good soldier, Lance. I'm sorry you have to do this, but I'm not sorry you're here."

Lance couldn't help himself. He laughed. Then he got his good elbow underneath his body and levered himself up so he could throw his arms around Shiro in a big hug. "Thanks, bossman."

Shiro's arms wrapped around his torso, holding warm and secure. Lance felt Hunk's huge hand on his upper back, Keith's light grip on his good shoulder, and Pidge's small fingers ruffling through his hair. In the background, Coran sniffled, then came the sound of the Altean equivalent of a camera taking pictures.

The battle was over for the day, and they'd won. It had been rough, but they'd made it through, all of them. Tomorrow, they would fight again, and they would win again, and they would keep winning until the universe was completely safe and free from tyranny. Lance didn't always believe that, not this strongly, but right now he did.

The End


End file.
